


Lose Better

by unluckywords



Series: Permaculture [1]
Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, a prologue of sorts, stay tuned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 13:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16556873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unluckywords/pseuds/unluckywords
Summary: The Disfavored and the Scarlet Chorus both failed, just like everyone knew they would and hoped they wouldn’t. Every faction in the room calls them turncoat and conveniently leaves out the portion of the story where they saved every person in the valley.





	1. Trial by Fire

_ The sun has risen five-and-three times since the Fatebinder’s arrival in the valley, and set once less. They know that will not live to see the next, lest someone acts.  _

_ The time for strategem—the time for taking orders— is long since over. Both Graven Ashe and the Voices of Nerat have failed to take Vendrien’s Well. Their refusal to collaborate has only brought failure where they anticipated honor, and their pride has all but damned the valley. _

They cannot gauge Tunon’s reaction to their tale, not without him speaking it aloud, but they are confidant he will see the truth in their words.

_ “Barik,” Island hisses, rounding the corner of the Disfavored fort will all due urgency. “I need you.” The iron-clad giant turns and lumbers towards them when they beckon him close. _

_ ”You’ve a plan?” As composed as their Stone Shield companion has been the past days, the fear of what’s coming leeches into his voice as the day rolls towards their collective oblivion. _

_ ”Yes, and we need to go, now.” He glances at the fort, the sounds of iron striking iron tolling from inside as his siblings prepare for the final push. _

_ “Lead on.” It takes a trifling hour to reach the Scarlet Chorus camp, though it is made longer by the stone shield’s inability to traverse some paths. _

_ Both the Scarlet Fury and the Sage waiting for them are dressed and ready to move, though the elder man looks poorly around the edges. He twitches and fidgets where he hadn’t the day before.* _

_ “You received my missive?” She ducks her head, helmet plume bouncing with the motion. _

_ “I’m ready to get out of this fucking place.” _

_ Verse hadn’t been happy when she was left behind with the rest of the Chorus a few days prior; Island is grateful she even agreed to help them. Should the Vendrien Guard turn on them, they would choose no other to be at their side. They gesture for them to follow and are the group moves on quickly, away from scorched woodlands and well-walked paths. _

_ Moving through the forest, one would never guess the terrible threat hanging above the collective head of the valley’s inhabitants. _

_ “Any care to tell us what you’re planning?” Island glances at him, hesitating, but nods. _

_ “We’re going to take Ascencion Hall for Kyros, however it must happen.” He does not need to voice his displeasure with their vagueness, his armor groaning and howling more than enough to express himself. “You’ll see, soon,” they promise. _

_ Verse contents herself to draw him away from his question after that, back into their usual spats. Island leads the group with absolute confidence through darkening spaces in between the trees. _

_ The sun disappears behind the mountains as they finally reach the break in the woods. A dozen sets of eyes all focus onto them, assessing the value of attacking over talking. Island offers a wave of a hand, gauntlet covered by a scrap of blue, pillaged off one corpse or another. The Oathbreakers brandish their weapons clearly, but do not yet level them at the group. _

_ “I’ve come to secure the Well.” Matani Sybil breathes a sigh of relief and stops fussing with the sash around her waist as Island speaks the code given in their missive. _

_ “You spoke true, when you wrote to us.” She offers her hand to shake, taken by the fatebinder without hesitation. “Though it is to be seen if you can help us.” They nod, pulling away. Their cause is far gone, dwindling and broken, but Island has yet to write them off as lost. _

_ “If I have your cooperation, I believe Ascension Hall can be claimed for Kyros by myself, and that it will be enough to satisfy the edict. For your cooperation you’ll have the protection of the court against the generals.” They pause. “It is everything I can give, and the best anyone is going to.” She takes in their words with grim finality, but none can miss the light that works its way back into their eyes as she reaches to shake on it. _

_ Kyros’ soldiers and servants are lead to the citadel under the cover of a pitch black night, ushered in under a scarcely raised gate as the remaining rebels prepare to hold off whatever final attack the generals may attempt. Handed safely off to the scion of house Tarkis and her Tidecaster companion, the others steadily peel away to take their stations. The sun is rising soon, a matter of hours now, and the siege will surely come to a head before then. _

_ “I do not like this, Fatebinder.” Barik keeps stride beside them as the soldiers of the guard rush past. His voice gives little away, and there is no way to see his expression, but they know he chafes against the slightest show of respect towards the southerners. _

_ “You think anyone is happy with this, Rustbucket?” Verse adds, not bothering to keep her voice low. Even in their urgency the soldiers keep clear of the Fury’s path.  _

_ “You could have helped the General, rather than selling yourself to these brigands.” They dip their head in acknowledgement and ignore the sharpness of his tone. A boom rocks the citadel before they can retort— Earthshakers— and Island breaks into a run for the Runic Hall. _

They take a stilling breath. Only days ago had the events of their tale transpired; it wore on them to repeat it so soon. 

“Time was of the essence, and accomplishing Kyros’ will meant going against the wishes of two Archons, so be it.”

The rebels held their lines during those few crucial moments it took the Fatebinder to workbthrough each part of the edict which might need satisfaction; Kyros’ magic dissipated with a great flash of light, spurring ancient magic into action again. 

None were more surprised than the Fatebinder themselves. 

_ Island watches messenger birds of all denomination leave the valley with word of Kyros’ victory over the Oathbreakers. Their loyalty is venerated by the passing of Kyros’ day of Swords, their claim on Ascension Hall deemed legitimate. _

_ The Valley remains in Oathbreaker hands, despite all efforts, rebel heads bowed to accept Kyros’ yoke. The Scarlet Chorus hurtles away in all directions, scattered like rats. The Disfavored break camp and leave for the Blade Grave and Lehian’s Crossing in the days following.  _

_ They cannot help the well of bitter pride in their throats as the sun crests the eastern horizon. _

“You thought that yourself alone was enough to solidify the Overlord’s will in the realm?” Tunon’s voice betrays nothing, but they know they straddle a dangerous line. They shake their head. 

“No, Archon, I would not be so proud, nor so foolish. I believed if I possessed the support of the faction controlling Ascension Hall, while assuring my own loyalty to Kyros through the presence of my compatriots,” They pause to gesture at the group behind them at the Stone Shield and Fury. “That I might stand a chance of taking it.” There is a moment of silence as they consider their next words. “I would restate: I tried to support the Disfavored, as I believed they had the better chance of resolving the Edict. They failed.” Island hesitates, but speaks true. “I did not.” 

There is the discordant sound of metal grinding against itself from behind them. It all but drowns out the Adjudicator’s sentence.


	2. A Step Off the Right Cliff

_ The court sees your intents and actions and deems them lawful. You have served the Overlord as best possible in your office, despite the possibility of personal harm. You will return to duty as I have instructed you.  _ Even as Tunon dismisses them from the upper level, sound of his gavel striking tile resonating through the room, the gathered denizens struggle to believe the events of the trial.

Watching from the shadows, Bleden Mark in particular has trouble swallowing the sentence— or lack of. He’s been around more than long enough time to know the way things function. When Tunon sentences someone to death, they die, and sending someone off with a second Edict, let alone an Edict of Execution, is a death sentence. No way around it. Tunon’s power in the court is absolute. Not nearly as broad in scope as the Overlord’s but just as indomitable, though he’d lose his head for saying it. 

So, when the kid— his kid, really— comes toddling down the stairs from their own execution, unscathed, it gives him pause. They pace back to the other Fatebinders and their waiting posse like they’d not just stared death in the eye.

He wonders what exactly happened to them in the valley. 

The Disfavored and the Scarlet Chorus both failed, just like everyone knew they would and hoped they wouldn’t. Every faction in the room calls them  _ turncoat  _ and conveniently leaves out the portion of the story where they saved every person in the valley. The Oathbreakers hold Vendrien’s Well, now with the blessing of the Overlord herself. Something gave them the gall to think up a plan like that, and come out the other side. 

Not that he’s disappointed, he poured a lot of effort into them, he’d hate to see it go to waste.

__  
  


Slowly the excitement fades from the court and all those not bound there begin to leave. Island trails the furthest back, something evidently holding them back. 

“Kid.” Bleden Mark snaps his fingers in front of them as they pass him, shadows congealing into a shape more familiar to them. “You blind now?” They sigh and shake their head. The Archon of Shadows folds his arms over his chest, waiting for a response. They look tired and sad, normal human things, but no worse for the wear. Not blind or handless like some people end up after delivering Edicts. 

“Distracted,” they offer. He isn’t convinced. He knows them, he took them apart and put them back together in a useful orientation; there’s something they didn’t tell Tunon that didn’t make its way back to him by any other channel. 

“Nearly walked right past me. Having your own little chunk of the world weighing that heavily?” They turn and face him fully, looking the Archon over as if trying to discern what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Yes,” they say eventually. “And unless you have an order for me I’ll need to return to it.” Uncharacteristic, but he’ll allow it. Maybe two Edicts finally stripped them of the tendency to shirk their work whenever possible.

“I know you probably mean to go see Ashe, but spare your mentor a moment.” They nod. “You’re on everyone’s mind right now, wanna guess why?” They gesture counting the reasons why off on their fingers. He considers reaching out to break one. 

“Awakening a Spire, casting two Edicts, resolving an Edict before it had the chance to happen?” They shrug. “Any of those, I imagine.” 

“Close,” he drawls.  _ Smartass.  _ “You’re the first to survive proclaiming and breaking the same Edict. Everything else is just a bonus.” He lets the words hang in the air. After a minute, Island sucks a mouthful of air in through their teeth, his meaning setting in. 

“And now,” they say, drawing out the syllables as they take a step back. “I’m a problem.” 

“Again,” he says, smiling in a way more accurately described as a snarl. 

“Again,” they repeat. He hopes they haven’t forgotten their training already. 

“You’re in deep water, kid. Tread carefully.” They nod, mulling over a thought before letting it pass their lips. 

“I was hoping for something a little bit more tangible,” they admit. He  _ knows  _ it isn’t what they’re asking for, but decides quickly his course of action.

Tugging it roughly from his arm, Mark holds his bracer out to them. Separated from him it isn’t nearly as lively as it usually is, but the object still shimmers and writhes in his hand. They have caution so clearly written in their features that it makes him wonder how they’ve survived so long with their heart out on display.

“My Binding of Shadows.” They take it from him, turning it carefully in their grasp. 

“Is there a reason you’re doing this, or did you just want to throw me a curveball?” He shrugs, watching them cuff up one shirtsleeve to make room for the object. Though fitted to him, and thus smaller than would fit comfortably on them, it changes shape almost imperceptibly to adhere itself to their skin. 

“Wanting to see what you do with it  _ is  _ a reason.” They look away from it, letting the gauntlet disappear under fabric. Island studies him a moment longer, trying in vain to gauge his reaction. 

“Thank you,” they say eventually, stepping away from him. “For the warning and the artifact.” They turn away, moving again towards those waiting for them at the door. He notes the chorus girl having slunk off already, while the sage and metal one still linger. 

“Hey,” he stops them once more when they reach the door. “Welcome back, by the way. Glad you made it.” They smile and wave him off, the heavy doors falling shut in their wake.

He isn’t sure how they’ve made it this far, but he’ll find out.


End file.
